


This is NOT a Honeymoon

by jewelianna88



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:39:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewelianna88/pseuds/jewelianna88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance and Chris go to Thailand</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is NOT a Honeymoon

Lance’s life was, for all intents and purposes, completely futile. Completely and totally futile. So when Chris called him up and said “Hey, come eat Thai food with me,” he went, not quite realizing that there was a very long plane ride involved and that the Thai food wasn’t at Siam Lotus down the street but in Thailand.

Not that he didn’t appreciate the vacation, but 24 hours notice would have been nice. He needed to cancel things, arrange for his plants to be watered, the dogs walked. That kind of thing. Chris never thought of that because he had a big family and 8,000 friends who would just step up while he was away.

It was one more thing to add to the list of reasons that Lance’s life sucked a lot, and he pulled out his Palm Pilot on the plane and jotted it down.

“What’re you doing?” Chris asked. He had his headphones around his neck with the volume cranked high enough on the IPod that Lance could hear every word and chord of Queen.

“Just writing something down so I don’t forget.” Another thing to add to the list-- bad memory.

“You think too much.” Chris ripped the Palm out of Lance’s hand before he had a moment to react. He tried to cover the screen, but Chris was hyped up on some kind of flying medicine that put normal people to sleep. There was no stopping his crazy kung-fu hand movements. “Reasons My Life Sucks.” The look that Chris sent to Lance was completely indescribable. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m wallowing,” Lance said, taking back his Palm and sliding it into its leather case, then back into his carry-on. Chris seized the opportunity to flick water onto the back of Lance’s neck as he bent over. “You’re the expert on that, I’d think you’d understand.”

“Your life does not suck,” Chris said. “And you’re only allowed to wallow for three months, tops. Right now, you should at least be into phase two.”

“Which is what? Strippers?” With a roll of his eyes, Lance leaned back in the seat and picked up a book. Chris laughed loudly, and signaled for the stewardess.

“And to think, all these years, and you’re just now trying to get me naked. No, Bass. The second stage is alcohol.” He ordered four glasses of scotch, setting two down on each tray. “Drink,” he commanded.

Lance drank, fearing that Chris might actually pinch his nose shut and force it down his throat if he didn’t.

“Are you sure you should mix that with your medicine?” he asked Chris, who was halfway through his first glass already. Chris’s eyes went wide.

“Oh, shit.”

Lance stared out the window at the ocean below and realized it was going to be a long flight.

**

The first thing Lance did when he got to the hotel room was Febreze everything in sight. Bangkok smelled funny, like the back of a Chinese restaurant and Joey’s sneakers. He was eternally grateful that years of second-rate hotel rooms and living with four other guys had taught him to carry air-freshener everywhere he went.

He’d sent Mike off for the rest of the day and evening, promising to stay in the room. Poor guy deserved it after more or less carrying Chris’ lifeless corpse from the gate all the way through baggage claim and transport to the room next to Lance’s. Apparently the addition of alcohol caused the sedative to have its desired effect and Chris was, Lance figured, out for at least 24 hours.

With nothing to do he called his mom, because he knew she’d be pissed beyond imagination if she found out he’d left the country from a wire service. She picked up on the fifth ring, just before he got kicked to voicemail.

“Hey, baby! How are you?” His mother’s warm voice immediately made him smile. Lance stepped out onto the balcony and took in the view of the golf course below.

“I’m good. I just wanted to let you know that I’m in Thailand.”

“Speak up, Lance. I thought you said you were in Thailand.”

“I did, mom. Chris and I are here for a week or so.” There was a long silence on the other end of the line, so long that Lance finally asked “Are you still there?”

“I’m here, honey. I just didn’t realize that you were planning a vacation with Chris. Isn’t it a little early?”

“Early for vacation?” Lance sat down on one of the wicker-esque chairs perched on his balcony, rather comfortable despite its odd shape. There was a potted tree in the corner that reached its branches over the balcony in search of the sun.

“Early for. You know. You’ve only been single for a few months honey. There’s no need to rush into anything.”

Oh, for the love of God. “Mom, we’re just here for a golf thing. This isn’t some big romantic vacation. Not with Chris.” Not that the idea didn’t cross his mind now and again, but that wasn’t what this was about at all.

“Oh. OK then. Sorry for jumping to conclusions, I just don’t know many people who go to Thailand together unless it’s some big romantic occasion, like a honeymoon.”

“Mom, this is not a honeymoon.” Lance laughed at the thought. He and Chris, married. They’d kill each other inside of a week.

“OK. Well, tell me where you’re staying in case I need to get a hold of you.”

Lance relayed the name and contact information for the hotel, and said goodbye, still chuckling over his mother’s assumption. Him and Chris. Right.

Like that was ever going to happen.

**

“So, what do you want to do today?” Chris was spread out over Lance’s bed on his stomach with his legs bent up into the air, shoelaces dangling down his calves. He wore sunglasses, even though they were inside and Lance didn’t have any lights on inside of the room.

“I want to ride an elephant,” Lance said, bending down to fix the Velcro on his sandals.

Chris laughed loudly, rolling on his back, feet planted on the bedspread. He was mussing it all up, Lance thought annoyed, and the maid wouldn’t be back before bedtime. “Bass, you kill me. No, really. What do you want to do?”

“Ride an elephant. There’s this place where you can feed them and ride them. I want to go do that.” It was the only thing that had really caught his eye in the guidebook he’d picked up at the airport while they waited for the plane to come.

“How about we golf first, and then ride the elephants?” Chris stuck his legs straight up in the air and tied his shoes, amazing Lance with his flexibility. No one in their 30s should be able to do that, Lance thought, especially not someone who claimed his “flub” was part of his charm.

Chris always got what he wanted, somehow, which is how Lance ended up standing around on the golf course in his brand new Nikes, while Chris made a big deal of how real his golf shoes were.

“And they have the little spikes. See?” He stepped on Lance’s toes to demonstrate. Pain shot through Lance’s foot.

”Fuck Chris! What the hell?” He limped a safe distance away and bent down. “It’s not like a make a living dancing or anything.”

“You make a living flying.” Chris started humming ‘Fly me to the moon and back’, running around the green with his arms spread like wings. He came dangerously close to whacking his club on the flag.

“You are certifiable,” Lance said. He pulled a golf club from the bag and proceeded to sink the putt in one stroke. Chris stopped running and gawked.

“How’d you do that?” he asked, dumbfounded. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re supposed to be bad at golf.”

“No, I don’t like golf. I never said I was bad at it.” With a satisfied smirk, Lance motioned to the caddy and moved off the green so Chris could finish. There was something so utterly rewarding about beating Chris at his own game.

**

Having given Mike the requisite 24 hours free, Chris roped him into following them down to the red light district to go clubbing. If Thailand was bright sunlight in the daytime, it was bright neon at night. And the people! Fuck if it wasn’t more crowded than New Orleans at Mardi Gras and just as festive.

“Hundred dollar, all night long,” one girl called, grabbing at his shirt. Lance shook his head and pried her hands from his shirt. It was silk, and would wrinkle so easily.

“Can we just pick a place and dance? I need a drink.”

Chris looked at him with amusement. “When don’t you need a drink?”

“Funny how I only feel the need to drown myself in alcohol when you’re around,” Lance retorted, stepping over the threshold into the nearest door. Japanese rock blared from the speakers, shaking the floor of the club. Perfect, Lance thought, making a beeline for the bar.

He came back with two tall fruity concoctions, only to find Chris standing next to a tiny little Thai girl, who couldn’t have been more than 16.

“What did you do?” he asked, handing the drink to Chris, who passed it to the girl and took Lance’s from his hand.

“I bought her for the night,” Chris said. The girl tucked the umbrella from her drink into her hair, tucking it back like a pro. Which was rather redundant at that.

“You bought an underage prostitute?” Lance really wanted his drink back.

“No, no!” The girl cried, letting the straw drop from her painted mouth. “I eighteen,” she said urgently. “No underage.”

Lance didn’t believe it for a minute, but Chris looked at him with fierce determination. “Please? At least if she’s with us, she’s not with someone else.”

Lance rolled his eyes, but there was no arguing with Chris tilted his head and gave him the look that said ‘don’t fuck with me on this one,’ so Lance left it alone.

They danced, and it was actually incredibly fun. Lance wasn’t used to fun these days. He got himself another drink and eventually the heat reached his cheeks and the lights started to jump around the room prettily. Chris was pressed up against his back grinding away like there was no tomorrow and this was the rave that would take them into the afterlife. He’d lost site of the girl, but she was really the last thing on his mind.

The press of bodies was hot, and the fact that Lance couldn’t understand the words to the songs didn’t matter at all. It was something more primal about it, actually, the beat of the music and the lights dancing in perfect synchronization. In Synch. Heh.

Maybe he was more drunk than he’d thought. Thunk? Thought.

“You OK there, Bass?” Chris asked. Lance blinked and nodded. Chris’ mouth was right at his ear, breath scorching on already hot skin. It sent shocks right to his groin, and hello, when did Chris have that kind of effect. It must have the alcohol.

Chris’ hands steadied on his arms, and Lance leaned back against him with ease. “I think I need some air,” he murmured, and bent back like that, he could feel his Adam’s apple sliding up and down with each word.

They meandered through the crowd into the fresh air, Lance breathing deeply, though it was only slightly less humid outside than in.

“Hey, where’s your hooker girl?” Chris was rubbing soothing circles on Lance’s back, and every time his hand moved Lance’s shirt pulled up, letting the air at his back.

“I dunno, I lost her in the crowd. I only bought her to give her a night off, you know?” Chris patted Lance’s back twice and took his hand away. “God, that must be a sucky life.”

Lance only nodded and took a deep breath. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the plight of underage teenage prostitutes in southeast Asia. It’s just that he couldn’t quite focus on that all buzzed and turned on by dancing.

With Chris. Again, what was with that?

“Wanna find someplace else?” Chris asked, stepping away. Lance noticed Mike had followed them out of the club and placed himself discretely a few feet away. At least, as discretely as a six-foot-seven, 300-pound man could among the tiny Asian population.

They headed down the street, around the corner, into a place with a lizard on the sign and green lights everywhere. Chris bought the drinks this time, shots of something yellow and sweet that barely burned on the way down. They danced until Lance had sweated out most of the alcohol and really begun to enjoy himself. So far, the impromptu vacation was turning into a rather good time. He hadn’t even thought about space once. Well, now. And there again. And maybe he wasn’t as sober as he originally thought.

Chris was dancing around him, away from him, which made Lance vaguely sad except for the Thai boy in front of him with bleached blonde hair and leather at his wrists that was just so damned appealing, so Lance concentrated there for a while, getting closer and closer until he could tell the other guy was enjoying this too, and hell, he’d never slept with someone who he couldn’t speak to at all in any of his three languages, so this might be a new experience. He’d been celibate since Freddy (fucking bastard) and that was just way to long to go without sex.

He’d just about worked up the nerve to take the guy’s hand out of his pants and lead him someplace more intimate so he could put it back in when Chris’ screaming voice broke through the music, a quick jolt back to reality and with a sigh, Lance pulled away to find out what was going on.

The underage hooker was back, only someone else had his arm around her and Chris was screaming holy hell at her, the way he went off on JC when JC banned all sugar from the bus as he was known to do mid-tour.

“You little bitch!” Chris’ face was an unusual shade of maroon, washed out with the green lights of the club. “I paid you for the whole night!”

“You left!” The girl was giving it back just as hard, and Lance watched, amused, wondering if this was going to come to blows. “You left, I free. You lose.”

Chris lunged, but the guy with his arm around the girl stepped between them and with a quick fist to Chris’ stomach, it was over. Chris fell like a rock to the floor, curled with his hands around his middle, knees landing with twin cracks on the wooden planks. The girl laughed, until Mike showed up. Then, she disappeared into the crowd quickly, dragging her latest John behind him.

“You OK?” Mike asked, and Chris nodded, opening his eyes.

“Fuck, I didn’t see that coming,” Chris said. Lance knew that it never would have landed if he had. Chris might look out of shape, but he was scrappy and had the kind of playground fighting skills that never went out of style.

There was a car there, somehow. Lance didn’t doubt the bodyguard’s voodoo magic skills at that kind of thing, was just grateful for it, falling into the backseat of the limo and letting it whisk them away.

Chris was still a bit curled, hands on his stomach. Tenderly, Lance reached out. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah.” With a grimace, Chris stretched, ending up next to Lance with his feet propped up on the other seat. “More pissed at myself.”

“What the hell happened anyway?” Lance let his hands wander down under Chris’ shirt, checking for broken ribs. When Chris didn’t wince in pain at any of the light touches, Lance figured he was OK. Still, he kept his hand there.

“I just saw her, and. I thought that I’d buy her a night off, you know? Give her a break, but she was there with the other guy. Making double what she normally would.” His was bitterly pissed off about that, Lance could tell.

Lance kissed his cheek and rested his head on Chris’ shoulder. He was warm and sweaty through his T-shirt. “At least you tried.”

Chris snorted, but he tipped his cheek against Lance’s head. “How about you? Find anyone?”

Lance thought about the Thai boy with blonde tips and sighed. “No one special,” he said, snuggled down under Chris’ arm for the ride back to the hotel. At least, no one like this.

**

Chris was already gone when Lance got up the next day, golfing someone told him. Being more hung over than usual, Lance passed on joining Chris in the broiling heat of the green and headed instead for the spa on the lower level of the resort. Everything was white and green, with green leafy plants and palm trees strategically potted for bursts of color. It smelled like peppermint and that weird nature scent of sticking your nose too close to a flower.

Lance was ushered back to a private room by a series of tiny Asian women, and told to strip for a hot stone massage and various other treatments that he was assured would bring him back to life after a night at the clubs. He fit his head into the padded horseshoe and rested on the table, trying not to think about any stupid things that may have transpired the night before.

He would have gone home with that guy if Chris hadn’t interrupted. He knew it was risky and decidedly stupid to have one night stands in foreign countries, but he had been celibate for months. He’d actually found an expired condom in his dresser the week before. He was desperate.

But he wasn’t angry at Chris. He stewed on that thought while the masseuse went to work on his shoulders, asking questions in broken English about his trip. He answered with “Mmmm” and that seemed to satisfy her, so he could go back to daydreaming.

No, he wasn’t mad at Chris. He should be, because he would have broken his dry spell last night if Chris wasn’t being so dumb, but it sweet in that dorky kind of way that Chris would get personally offended when ripped off by a Thai teenage prostitute. Lance smiled thinking about Chris taking on the Titanesque man to defend the girl who’d just cost him a hundred dollars. No, he wasn’t mad at Chris. He kind of wanted to hug him.

“You want front?” the girl asked, and Lance figured why not? He rolled over, eyes still closed, and let her warm tiny hands work wonders on his stomach muscles. There wasn’t an inch to pinch anywhere on his body, thanks to Russia, and he was determined to stay in that kind of shape in hopes of getting back into the cosmonaut program.

When the girl’s hands started to drift lower, Lance reached down and pushed them away. “No, that’s OK.”

“No, no. Full massage.” Again, she darted into forbidden territory, so Lance sat up and pulled the sheet around his waist.

“No, thanks.”

“Ohhh. You here with the other man? Chris, with no hair?” The girl’s dark painted mouth dropped open, eyebrows risen high on her forehead. Lance sighed.

“Sort of.” He reached for his clothes, but couldn’t put them on without dropping the sheet, and now things had gotten to weird to be stripping in front of her again.

“OK, you come back, together. Honeymoon special, couples massage.” The girl smiled brightly at him. “I book you now.”

She was out the door before Lance could yell “This is not a honeymoon!”

**

Chris was waiting for Lance in the hotel restaurant when he got out of the spa, chowing down on some noodle thing. Lance studied the menu and randomly picked out a couple of dishes that didn’t sound too spicy or disgusting. He stole a piece of green pepper off of Chris’ plate.

“How was golfing?” he asked, munching on the pepper. The sauce on it was incredibly hot, sending him diving for the glass of water the waiter had just poured. Chris laughed as Lance fanned his tongue like a kid.

“This course kicks some serious ass. I’m going to, like, buy up a bunch of land in Florida and copy it. I’ll train here and get all good at it and then go home and kick J’s ass.”

Lance looked out the windows at the rolling green lawns. “That’s gonna cost you a shitload of money.”

“Then I’ll buy up land in Mississippi and build it there. I’ll even bring in some Thai prostitutes to stir up the locals.” He started seriously until Lance gave him the expected horrified reaction before laughing.

“What’d you do?” Chris asked. “You look all glow-y.”

“The spa. Got felt up by a masseuse. She skipped right over the whole ‘ don’t want a handjob from you because I’m gay’ thing and went right to the ‘I don’t want a handjob from you cause I’m here on my honeymoon.’” Chris snorted his noodles, letting them fall back down onto the plate. Lance grimaced, and sat back as his food was delivered. He shuddered to realize his plate was full of tomatoes and those baby corns that he hated.

Picking around the bad vegetables, he listened to Chris talk about golfing some more until there was no more food to be eaten. “So, what do you want to do this afternoon?” Lance secretly hoped for elephants.

“Wanna go swimming?” Chris looked up hopefully, fiddling with the sweatbands on his wrists. “I’m so fucking hot after this morning.”

The pool area was gorgeous, and Lance was still pretty pasty, so he filed the elephants away for another time.

**

Chris has no concept of what it meant to “lounge,” Lance thought irritably, watching Chris flip and flop around the lounge chair. It was sunny and warm, and generally perfect, except Chris could not sit still. Lance should have been used to it by now, but somehow, he’d forgotten about Chris’s inability to relax.

“Do you want to swim some more?” Chris asked, sitting up with a leg on either side of the lounge chair. Lance looked over at him through dark sunglasses.

“Not really. You can, if you want.”

Chris shrugged. “It’s no fun to swim alone.” He sounded like a petulant child, Lance thought, and because of that, he chose to ignore him. He’d only been sunning 20 minutes, 10 left before turning over and taking a nap on his stomach.

“Why don’t you go down the slide again?” Lance suggested.

Chris scowled. “I’m not 10, Bass.” Then, “Why don’t you come with me? You need to relax.”

“I’m trying,” Lance mumbled. He frowned when the sun was cut off as Chris sat on his legs. “What are you doing?”

Chris pulled Lance’s sunglasses off of his face. “You’re boring.”

“You knew that already.”

“Do you know why I brought you on this trip?” Chris asked.

“Because Justin couldn’t make it and I’m the only other person you know who will golf with you?” Chris inched up closer on Lance’s thighs, and hey, that felt kind of nice, lapful of warm man butt. Squirmy man butt.

“Because you’re the most entertaining one of the bunch. You can always find ways to keep busy. Russia has ruined you. You used to be fun.” Chris scooted up even farther, and Lance blushed, because he was sure that Chris could feel exactly how much he was enjoying this.

“I’m not in the mood to be entertaining,” he said, but his voice was low, trying to be restrained. Chris lifted off his own sunglasses and smirked down at Lance.

“Are you sure? Cause it seems to me you’re in exactly the right mood.” He bounced a little, making Lance buck up and groan, praying he didn’t cream his swim trunks.

“So, do you wanna go swimming?” Chris asked. “There’s a Jacuzzi over there with all these trees and they’re very… leafy.” The implications of privacy were clear.

Lance was off the lounge chair before Chris could even finish his sentence, thankful that the pool was nearly deserted, dragging Chris by the wrist back to the hot bubbling water to have his wicked ways.

Dry spell, over, he thought, as Chris’ lips worked furiously against his, hands dipping below the drawstring waist of his trunks. So completely over. He let his legs float up until his toes peaked through the foam. There was nothing like a good old fashioned hand-job to get Lance’s blood going, and Chris’ hand was good, really good. Up, down, and he didn’t neglect Lance’s balls either, making sure they were cupped and happy in between every couple of strokes. Lance’s body was on fire, hotter than even the water around them. Chris’ arm keeping him pinned to the bench until he came, mouth fallen open, breath caught in his throat, Chris’ mouth on his shoulder leaving bite marks the whole time.

Chris slid across the hot tub looking impossible smug as Lance drifted back to reality, eyes focusing on Chris’ innocent face. “You planned this.”

“Who me?” Chris had his arms stretched on either side, looking like a king- or a rock star- waiting for his adoring public to worship him. Lance floated over and knelt on the bench over Chris.

“Wanna know what I learned in Russia?” Lance asked.

“Not if it has anything to do with my dick, no,” Chris said. “They do kinky stuff over there, don’t they? Long Siberian winters, right?”

Lance laughed, head thrown back, actually happy for the first time in a long time. Sex, mmmmm, and with someone he actually liked, who’d made the first move. Double mmmmm. Better than the Thai boy with blonde hair who probably would have fucked and run. “You’re such a freak. No, see. I learned to hold my breath for a really long time.” He winked and Chris and ducked under water, hoping Chris still had the stamina of a 15 year old he used to complain about, and wouldn’t make Lance pass out before he came.

**

Lance was in such a good mood he didn’t mind at all when Chris disappeared to the driving ranges later that afternoon. He stretched out on the really comfortable bed in his room and called Joey, who would be glad to hear that Lance wasn’t moping about Freddy (fucking bastard) anymore.

“Yeah? That’s fucking fantastic man, what’s going on?” Joey was always so enthusiastic. Lance loved him for it.

“Well, me and Chris are in Thailand for some golf thing.”

“Chris, our Chris?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Yeah. So, we’re here and it’s just kind of. I don’t know, it’s good, man. We’re good.”

“You’re sleeping with Chris?” On the other side of the line, Chris heard Kelly shushing Joey, and there were a few moments of shuffling and the click of a door closing. “Sorry. Back up for a second. You’re finally over Freddy the fucker because you’ve moved on to Chris?”

“I haven’t moved onto him. He moved onto me. I just went along with it.” And really, as much as it might have been hard to picture being with Chris 24 hours ago, all it took was a hand on his dick to make Lance realize the error of his ways on that front. He really had thought about Chris before, what with being the only other gay man in the immediate vicinity for a good portion of his life, but it was always more of an abstract. Now, Lance realized he should have been paying more attention.

“I don’t know, Lance. Do you really want to rebound with Chris? I mean, it’s cool if he’s into it and all, and God, I’m happy for you and what not, but. He’s Chris you know? He’s already got enough issues to fill a couple of encyclopedia.”

“You think I’m going to fuck him up?” Lance was a bit wounded by that. Sure, he took pride in the fact that he’d demoralized every one of his exes, but he’d never done it until they’d hurt him first.

“No, I just. Be careful.” Joey sighed. “What the hell are you doing in Thailand, anyway?”

They talked for a few more minutes, until Lance heard Joey’s kid crying on the other end of the line and let him go, promising to check in later. Still in a pretty good mood, he thought, because Joey hadn’t completely shut him down on the whole Chris thing.

And just because he could, he wandered down to the lobby and called Freddy (fucking bastard), collect, because the fucker owed him ten grand, and if he wasn’t going to pay up then Lance was gonna get it out of him any way he could.

**

When Chris came back, Lance was naked and waiting, jerking off absently to porn on TV. He was more waiting for Chris than trying to get off. One hand was on his dick, just keeping it warm, really, the other holding his balls nice and close to his body, moving them around to keep things going.

“Jesus,” Chris said, holding one hand over his eyes. “Warn a guy.”

Lance smiled and waved his dick around. “Why, are you scared? Cause you sure didn’t seem that way this afternoon.”

Chris was already stripping out of his shirt, pausing as he pulled it over his head. “What if I’d had company? What if Mike had been with me? Do you really want him seeing that?”

Lance smiled as Chris dipped the mattress beside him, hand sliding all the way up his leg from ankle to hip. Chris’ hands were small, and they had calluses all over the palms that roughed up Lance’s skin, but he didn’t mind at all. Particularly when Chris’ hand closed over his dick, followed by Chris’ body pressing him against the bed. Heaven, he thought, pushing up against him as Chris bore down.

“You smell,” Lance said, wrinkling his nose.

“It’s a hundred and fourteen fucking degrees outside,” Chris said. “Do you want to wait while I shower?”

Lance wrinkled his nose, and hooked his legs around Chris’ waist. “Be quick about it and we’ll shower together.” Chris thrust against, him, dick on dick, and Lance’s mind stopped creating witty comebacks and abandoned him to the sensation of Chris, smelliness and all, thrusting insistently until they both came in a splattering between their chests.

**

They missed dinner in the restaurant, but Chris ordered up room service, more of that mixed up curry stuff that burned Lance’s mouth and left his stomach rumbling for more. Thai food in the US was so much better than Thai food in Thailand.

“You know,” Lance said, sitting back in the wooden chair that overlooked the golf course below, “We could have gone out and found someplace to eat.” Some good food, he added silently. They’d sat on the balcony for dinner, shooting the shit about movies and television reality shows that they both agreed were a waste of time yet couldn’t stop watching.

“I don’t wanna go out,” Chris said. “That would require clothes.”

Lance looked at Chris, wearing nothing but cotton knit boxers and smiled. “That would be a shame.” Chris’ chest was sprinkled with hair, the dark twisting trail leading down to a black waistband. He wasn’t perfect, but he was beautiful. And he had really sensitive nipples. Lance loved playing with nipples. It was nice to discover something new about Chris, having known him for all those years.

Lance tried to shrug it off, but his stomach growled. Chris offered him the plate of noodle things in brown sauce, but Lance waved it away.

“Dude, you have to eat. You’re still all skinny space boy.” Chris ran a finger down Lance’s side, bumping over the visible ribs there. Lance squirmed, always ticklish, and ducked away.

The food was set aside and somehow, they wound up back inside, where the room was humid from the open balcony door, condensation dripping from the mirror.

Chris’ hands were warm on his body, kisses spicy enough to make Lance pant for air, giving him time to smile as Chris rolled them back on the bed and dropped his shorts. Lance hummed appreciatively and grabbed Chris by his love handles, pulling him down to the bed on top of him. The kissed for a long time, wet and sloppy, until Lance couldn’t stand it any more and wrapped his legs up around Chris’ back. He’d heard Chris fucked like a dream, bits of conversation overheard from ex-boyfriends, and all wrapped up in Chris’ arms, he could believe it. He wanted it, so badly his body arched up off of the bed, begging for it.

“Dude, are you sure?” Chris used his teeth to nip the words into Lance’s neck, and he nodded, boinking his chin on Chris’ head. Chris sat up with a grin and grabbed stuff from the nightstand. It was never Lance’s intention to use the fancy lube from the hotel spa with Chris, but hey, this was infinitely better than some strange Thai boy or random golf caddy. Chris used his fingers, twisting until Lance was just letting out little panting groan noises with every stroke, bent in half but completely pliant and relaxed on the bed, given over completely to Chris’ pleasure.

He glanced at their reflection over Chris’ shoulder as he pushed deep inside, Lance’s knees by his ears. In the mirror they looked wavy, watery, not quite focused and disjointed. It was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

Lance cried out as Chris began to move and his eyes closed, shutting out the world beyond. Better than random, he thought. Better than everything.

**

The phone woke Lance the next morning, and he grappled for it with a useless hand, knocking it off the cradle to the floor. He could hear the faint “hello?” from the other end as he hung over the side of the bed to retrieve it.

“Hello?”

“Lance? Hey, man, what the hell, Thailand?” Justin’s voice sounded very far away. Lance groaned and tried to roll back onto the bed without completely ripping off the covers. He failed, and the sheets caught his legs in a straight-jacket like vice.

“Yeah. Chris wanted to go to this golfing thing. I don’t know, he just called and I wasn’t doing anything.”

“I know, man, I’ve already talked to Chris, for like an hour yesterday. He had his headpiece on at the driving range and made me listen to his blabbering about the inferiority of golf in America and shit. And fuck you, for not inviting me by the way.”

“Fuck you back, this is Chris’ thing, not mine.” Lance tried to free himself but the blankets, but he couldn’t do it one-handed.

“And hey, speaking of that,” Justin said with laughter in his voice. “You finally got your head out of your ass on that one, huh?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Lance growled at Justin. It was this weird thing they did, always swearing at each other. A throwback to the early days of *NSync where they would say bad words together to get them out of their system so that no one would slip up in front of a parent or record executive.

“You and Chris. He’s only been after you for, like, two years, now. And have I said thank you yet for dumping the poker fuck?” Lance grimaced. Justin had said that, actually, in London and several times since. It still smarted that everyone else had seen the evil of Freddy (fucking bastard) before him.

But wait. Two years?

“Swear to God,” Justin continued. “Since, like. When you guys went rafting that time, and he came back going on and on about your arms or some shit.”

“You’re a fucking liar,” Lance said, but his heart beat faster anyway. Just sex, he thought, but what if it was more? The idea spread like a warm glow through his body. Chris. ChrisChrisChrisChrisChris. Yeah. That might work out really well. They’d drive each other crazy, but there was makeup sex to consider.

“I’ll call you back,” Lance said, hanging up the phone and jumping from bed, only to fall to the floor, legs still stuck in the sheets. He lay for a moment and caught his breath, then extracted himself as someone knocked on the door. He limped across the wooden floor to let them in.

“Lance, you’re going to love me,” Chris said with a grin.

Lance blinked, then realized Chris wasn’t talking about a long-term silver rings relationship kind of love but the eternal gratitude love for the jar of peanut butter in Chris’ hands. He dug in with two fingers, stomach grumbling happily for the first time in days, Chris’ laughter echoing all the way down the hallway.

**

Lance knew he had to talk to Chris, but they got distracted in the shower the next morning. It was a very nice shower, big and steamy, with tiles that weren’t cold at all when Lance was pressed up against them, legs wrapped around Chris’ back, holding on for dear life. His head still ached a bit from where he cracked it on the wall.

They had to be to the tournament by nine for check-in, which hadn’t left much time for talking. The big conversation was therefore relegated to a golf cart, which Chris insisted on driving even though he’d been banned from driving by nearly ever golf course in the States.

“So,” Lance started, then didn’t know what else to say, so he stopped. Chris stared at him.

“So what?”

“So, watch the road,” Lance yelled, grabbing the wheel as two of the cart’s wheels dipped off of the paved path into the grass. Chris yanked them back onto the pavement and slowed down, just a bit.

“No, what were you really going to say?”

“Nothing.” Lance rifled in his backpack for his sunglasses. “Are you still seeing that chef?” Chris had hooked himself onto the executive chef of some elite Orlando restaurant. Lance secretly thought Chris was only dating him for his sense of humor and his chocolate.

“Um, no,” Chris said, “because I’m sleeping with you and I’m one of those honest people who doesn’t fuck around on my boyfriends.” Lance cringed, the dig to his wilder days as a pop star bachelor quite clear.

“Oh. I just thought I should check, you know?” Suddenly awkward, Lance turned around to rifle around in his bags of clubs. The cart slowed and pulled off to the side of the green. There were palm trees overhead and a view of the ocean beyond. It was a pretty spot, Lance thought, to have it out with your maybe-boyfriend.

“I thought we were doing this, now,” Chris said, looking away. Lance’s attention riveted back to Chris, because he was talking softy. When Chris was quiet, it was because his words were so important that he wanted to make sure you were listening. “I thought. I mean. Fuck you, Lance.”

That hurt, Lance thought. Especially because they were essentially on the same page, just reading between the lines very differently. “We are,” Lance said. “I thought we were too, but I just. I don’t know, Chris, you never tell us anything that’s going on. We take a break from touring and suddenly you drop off the face of the earth, with nothing but occasional visits and random phone calls. You never tell us where you’re going or what’s going on. So screw you, putting this one on me.” It all came bubbling out, thing Lance hadn’t even consciously thought about before, but the sudden realization was there: he’s missed Chris. A lot. He pressed his feet against the footboard, bending his knees, dangling his arm down the side of the car to the grass. “You’re never there anymore and I just. I wanted to make sure this was, like, the real thing before I dump a lot of time and effort and emotional shit into something that was just going to disappear as you head off on your next vacation.”

Chris scoffed. “Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Russia Man.”

“But I kept in touch,” Lance promised. “You knew everything that was going on. I have to find out shit about you from Justin,” and Lance stopped, because he knew that he had said too much there. Chris’ eyes grew dark.

“Kid needs to keep his mouth shut,” was all he said. Then, “We need to get moving.”

The game was tense. Lance stood next to Chris on the green, both of them studying the next putt. “I think the six iron,” he said, squinting into the sun. Chris glared at him and took the four.

Back at the hotel, Lance flopped into his own bed, alone, before the sun had even set. The maids had cleaned and it smelled like laundry soap and that weird Thailand smell again. Lance wanted to go home, where the sheets were clean and his friends didn’t sleep with him and fight over stupid things.

He called JC, because JC was good at stuff like this, reading people and figuring out how to solve problems. “Make Chris like me again,” Lance begged. JC sighed.

“Dude, you have to be sneaky with him. Let him brood. He hates thinking people are mad at him,” JC said.

“C, Chris flaunts the fact that half of the music industry hates his guts,” Lance said. He’d finished the entire jar of peanut butter, and it sat empty on the night table. Lance’s stomach churned unhappily.

“People who count,” JC said. “Look man, let him sleep on it. Guarantee he’s over it by morning.”

“Maybe.” Not entirely convinced, but Lance felt a little better. Hope, and all that. “What are you up to anyway?”

“Man, not much. Going to visit some old Maryland friends in a couple of weeks. I can’t believe my friends like, have jobs. And mortgages.”

Lance laughed. “JC, you have a job and a mortgage. Two of them.”

“Yeah, but my life’s always been weird. These are the guys who were, like, going to prom or frat parties last time we really hung out. It’s so weird.”

Lance laughed, and hung up, burying his head under the covers and falling into a restless sleep. He dreamt of Chris building spaceships out of golf clubs and flying them over the Grand Canyon. It was most bizarre.

In the morning, Chris showed up outside Lance’s door with a sour face and a freaky sunburn. “Come on,” he said, without explanation as to where they were going.

“What happened to your neck?” Lance asked.

“I was going get you to put sun block on the back where I couldn’t reach and forgot.” Chris shrugged. “Whatever, come on.”

Lance felt bad, so bad that he grabbed his bottle of aloe vera gel before leaving, and helped Chris rub it in during the car ride. Neither of them talked about the fight or the sex, or much of anything. The noise from the streets was loud enough that the silence between them wasn’t awkward.

When Lance got out of the car, the smell hit him again, and he wrinkled his nose, because it was somehow worse, here, like a zoo. Then he saw the sign and started to smile.

“Seriously? I didn’t think you’d do this!”

“Oh, I’m not,” Chris said, with panic all over his face. “Have I mentioned my phobia about heights? That elephant is like, the Empire State Building of pachyderms. No, thanks. But you can go up there and ride around like a circus freak.”

Lance beamed, and handed Chris his camera. There was a short lecture they had to sit through on the role of the elephant in Thailand’s economy, highlighting their usefulness in the timber and tourist industries. It was kind of boring, but Lance was used to long boring talks from all of his training days in Russia. After it was over, he got to feed the elephant and ride around for 5 minutes of pure glee, like being a kid at the carnival again, only higher than a pony and better and so much cooler. He waved to Chris, and to Mike, who was laughing like a hyena at the whole thing.

Afterward, Lance tried to give Chris a hug, but he ran away screaming “elephant cooties!” Lance sighed, not wanting to chase, thinking that this was the man he was potentially hitching himself to for the foreseeable future. It was rather frightening, and rather exciting to think about.

“Are you ready go?” Mike asked, wiping his hands on his pants. Lance had caught a glimpse of him feeding the elephants earlier. He nodded, smiling, and called for Chris to get his fucking ass in gear.

Chris wouldn’t touch him in the car on the way back, nor in the hotel room until Lance had showered off all of the elephant germs. It was hard, Lance realized, keeping his hands to himself. Once he’d had a taste of Chris he never wanted to go without it again.

“You do realize,” he said, toweling his hair as Chris arranged trays of room service food on the bed, “that the collective opinion of this trip is that it’s one big honeymoon?”

Chris laughed, that really happy laugh he did that was lighthearted and full of true joy. He patted the bed beside him, holding the trays steady as Lance sat down and curled his feet up Indian style. “People are such idiots,” he said, pulling the lid off of a dish to reveal some sort of noodly thing with chicken. Lance wrinkled his nose, and Chris sighed and lifted the other tray to reveal a cheeseburger and fries.

“Yeah, but. What are we going to tell them when we get home?” Lance asked, munching on a fry. It was the best thing he’d ever tasted. Chris took a huge forkful of spicy noodles and slurped them, brown sauce sticking to his lips.

“We tell them that if this was our honeymoon, they cheated us out of a shitload of wedding gifts and need to pay up, like, yesterday.”

Lance laughed, snorting soda out his nose. “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he said, happy when Chris wiped off his mouth.

“Same here,” Chris said, eating more noodles. Lance kissed him, then, and didn’t even mind the spicy burn. Some things, he thought, were worth the flaming lips.

END


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